


Fun Red Queen One Shots!

by Emo_MabelPines



Category: Red Queen Series - Victoria Aveyard
Genre: Multi, just me having fun with my favorite book series, one shots
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-14
Updated: 2020-12-05
Packaged: 2021-03-09 22:35:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 11,594
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27553945
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Emo_MabelPines/pseuds/Emo_MabelPines
Summary: The only warnings I have for this is swearing, gore, maybe some mature content, and tears
Relationships: Cameron Cole/Kilorn Warren, Diana Farley/Shade Barrow, Elane Haven/Evangeline Samos, Julian Jacos/Sara Skonos, Mare Barrow/Kilorn Warren, Mare Barrow/Maven Calore, Mare Barrow/Tiberias "Cal" Calore VII, Maven Calore/Iris Cygnet, Maven Calore/Thomas, Ptolemus Samos/Wren Skonos, Tiberias "Cal" Calore VII/Kilorn Warren, many more
Comments: 65
Kudos: 45





	1. Intro

**Author's Note:**

> The only warnings I have for this is swearing, gore, maybe some mature content, and tears

Hello fellow Red Queen fans!

I have been creating prompt and one shot pages for multiple fandoms to give me something to do and to improve my writing skills. If you would like me to write a fic for you, please comment down below and I will get started on it ASAP.

Just a few basic rules:

\- No incest, rape, or pedophilia fics 

\- I don’t feel comfortable writing explicit sexual content but I will do mature content if you would like

\- Certain characters, in canon, have a specified sexuality such as Evangeline, who is lesbian, and Davidson, who is gay. I won’t be writing them out of their sexualities (such as I won’t write Evangeline in a ship with a male)

\- Please be respectful to other people’s requests and ships, thank you :)

One more thing! Requests don’t necessarily have to be a ship. Ideas can include ships or have no ships at all and focus on different relationships between characters such as Farley and baby Clara content or a fic focusing on Cal and Maven’s childhood before everything went to shit.

I hope you enjoy this as much as I do!


	2. Not Mavey

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is just an angsty one shot of Cal and Maven’s relationship. It’s centered around Cal’s thought, “Not Mavey”, in War Storm. There is some happy moments in there but they don’t last for too long (sorry not sorry)
> 
> No warnings except tears
> 
> Requested by Third_Writer :)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I enjoyed writing this! It’s short, yes, but it did make my heart hurt :’(

_Not Mavey._

When the proposal was made, Cal couldn’t breathe. The idea of killing his own brother, his little brother, once a bright-eyed, innocent child, made him want to keel over and die himself. His heart ached with a pressure that couldn’t be lifted.

_Not Mavey._

The day Maven was born, December 13th 302 NE, Cal had looked upon his face with the largest smile his father said he had ever seen. Although he didn’t remember that moment, it was his favorite of the ones his father mentioned to him. Cal was merely two, but already proud to be a big brother, even if they were only half-siblings.  
  
Elara, Cal’s stepmother, had scoffed at his inspection of her child and shooed him away. That happened more often than he would’ve liked, becoming a routine as the brothers got older.  
  
Cal had a vivid memory of when he was four, of Maven running up to him, nearly tripping over his own feet, smiling excitedly. “Cal! Cal!” It was the only word his elder brother ever heard him say at that age, since he wasn’t even three yet, and it made him prouder than he ever felt before. The only suspicion Cal had of him even then, was the surprising ability Maven had to walk so well at such a young age. The doctors had claimed the young prince would take longer than most to acquire walking skills due to his frail form. It had confused Cal, but he paid no mind to it.  
  
_Because I was young. I wouldn’t have understood._ It sounded more of an excuse than a legitimate reason.

Flash forward to Maven’s tenth birthday party, the one Cal forced his father to promise he’d throw. Tiberias VI had grunted in reply, saying he’d think about it, before busying himself with work.

Maven had been so happy, awarding Cal with a smile as bright as the sun itself. However, there was a lie behind that grin, as there was in everything else he did. How Cal hadn’t noticed it, he had no clue. Perhaps it was denial; he simply couldn’t deal with the idea his brother was experiencing mental pain with his mother every night behind closed doors. _Another goddamn excuse._

As the Calore princes grew, they each became a shadow of their childhood. Cal was made into the soldier his father wanted him to be, yet kept his unique characteristics and hobbies, still having a sense of who he truly was. On the contrary, Maven became less and less of himself every day, losing sight of who he was meant to be in the first place. The circles beneath his eyes darkened and his skin grew paler, the two appearances contrasting terrifically. It was the front that changed him for good.

Before leaving for the front, Maven had confronted Cal, admitting he wasn’t sure where the path would take him. Cal, overjoyed his brother had wanted to talk with him, gave him the best advice he could. “There may be life changing moments at the front, whether it’s gazing upon death or losing someone close to you. It’s up to you how to react to it and how to deal with it later on in life. I know you’re strong, Mavey. You’ll do better than I did up there, with your wit and your snarky remarks.” Maven had smiled at that. “Just promise me one thing. Don’t lose yourself.”

Nevertheless, lose himself he did. Cal was never enlightened on what happened at the war front. The only clues he received were his brother’s nightmares and tear-stained face when he sat at breakfast in the mornings. Soon, those tear stains disappeared as did Maven’s terrors. His face had slowly become expressionless as though the life itself was being drained out of him. Leaving him with the creation his mother formed.

All of the hidden memories came rushing back to Cal in an instant and he nearly yelled. _There’s got to be another way. Not Mavey. Please, not Mavey._

How could he live knowing there might’ve been some way to heal his little brother?

_Not Mavey._

Maybe he still resided in the internal cage his mother created. Maybe he could be the boy he was supposed to be.

_Not Mavey._

Cal did not say a word during that process of thought. His body went on autopilot, moving and talking without someone behind the wheel. Maven liked to joke about it, claiming that’s how Cal ran in the first place. The joke used to make him irritated, now it just made him want to cry.

_Please...not Mavey._


	3. Do You Know Who I Am? (Thomaven)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ship: Thomaven (Thomas/Maven)
> 
> Just my imagining of how they met :)
> 
> Requested by TheShadowoftheFlame!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, this one was so much fun to write! I got emotional lol.
> 
> Also, for some reason I feel like I write better in Maven’s POV? So I deeply apologize if the fics I write that aren’t in his POV aren’t as good as the ones that are.
> 
> Warning: just some swearing in there

_Idiots, all of them._ Maven thinks idly, forcefully shoving a spoonful of his dinner down his throat. He isn’t necessarily hungry but he figures starvation isn’t the best course of action. The soldiers in question are sitting a table apart from the prince, completing challenges such as who can eructate the loudest. Although they’re Silver and supposedly regal, the lot of them laugh loudly as the soldier with the most muscled build lets loose a long, boisterous belch. Maven scrunches up his nose in disgust.

Out of all the places his mother could’ve sent him to toughen him up, it was here, in this vile excuse for a war front.

The mess hall isn’t particularly nice, with it’s moldy walls and shady structure, though Maven understands it was built quite quickly so soldiers had a place to eat before they trudged off to battle. Adequate food is served for the Silvers and doesn’t taste as bad as he predicted it would. However, the Red food stinks enough to make Maven avoid it altogether. A few of the Red soldiers had even stated it didn’t look like food, just mush. Like mud taken from the sole of the general’s boot.

Being a Silver and royalty, Maven received the better end of everything, yet he isn’t fully sure he wants it, much less deserves it. Having spent two years at the front so far, he’s seen how Reds are treated versus how Silvers are, heard the insults and slurs from General Lerolan to “encourage” them to work harder or move faster. His mother had taught him about the difference between Reds and Silvers once. Her only point was Reds are lower and should be treated as such. Now, he doesn’t wholly agree.  
  
He’s met a few Reds through a few conversations while training. Nothing special, nothing horrible. All of them had feared him, yes, but weren’t the terrible rats his mother claimed they were. They were simply soldiers attempting to make it through their time at the front alive. Just as he is.

Finishing his supper, Maven stands, desperately wanting to leave as the group of Silvers to the right of him introduce the challenge of who can deliver the loudest flatulence. _What a bunch of children._ Unfortunately, this happens a lot. Maybe it’s the freedom of being under the eye of one general, who’s only around during training and check-ins, instead of their noble parents who watch them closely every day for misbehavior.

Maven silently wishes they would be kept under constant supervision, otherwise, he’s going to go insane.

The mess hall is separated into two room; one for silver-blooded soldiers, the other for any and all Reds up at the front. To cross through the Red hall is the quickest way to Maven’s temporary home, which should be empty due to everyone else eating. He wants to be alone right now and during meals is the only time he is awarded his wish. Unfortunately, supper ends in fifteen minutes; not nearly enough time for Maven to recoup if he took the long way.

So the Silver prince walks through the door between the halls, ignoring the stares of Silver soldiers sitting at tables closer to the wall. The general and his mother would throw a fit about him sharing the same air as peasants, but he doesn’t care at the moment. The Red hall is worse than what Maven experienced in his own meal area. The tables and chairs are dirtier than the ones he eats at; Maven doesn’t even know if they’re cleaned at all. Every single chair is taken and Red soldiers and servants alike are squished together side by side. A quarter of them look as though they’d rather be anywhere but here and stare at their sad excuse for food with a frown. The rest, however, are laughing, chatting, or arm wrestling, the amount of noise being almost too much for the sensitive ears of a prince. Usually, gatherings at the kingdom are full of nobles and powerful, rich Silvers who laugh haughtily and quietly while gentle classical music plays in the background. Walking into here reminds Maven of a group of screaming children who don’t know how to calm down.

Nobody notices the Calore son walking around the perimeter of the mess hall. Until Maven reaches the door, about to grab the handle and thankfully leave, and it swings open, slamming into Maven’s face and crushing his nose. Pain floods through his skull and he falls on his rear, immediately covering his face with one hand. Blood spurts from his nostrils, smearing everywhere.

“Yo!” A Red greets his friends with a large smile. However, they don’t return it. When the door dramatically swung open, most Reds glanced over from the sudden noise but froze when they saw the prince on the floor with a hand over his nose, silver blood gushing down his face. Maven’s attacker frowns, confused. “What?”

Deep forest green eyes meet icy blue ones. For a moment, the world stops rotating, leaving everything at a standstill. Maven knows nothing but the image of the Red in front of him. Beautiful dusty brown skin contrasts with messy dark curls, which look soft and bouncy despite nothing to care for it with. Obvious dimples in the corners of his cheeks gain the prince’s attention, as well as his capturing eyes. He’s not as well-built as most of the men or women here, but instead is tall and lanky with only a simple scrappy dark green shirt to match his irises and a pair of torn shorts. He wears no shoes on his feet, leaving his toes caked with dirt and grime. The Red isn’t a soldier, most likely a servant or a medic, but Maven is enraptured by him all the same.

Paling profoundly, the Red’s eyes widen. While his friends avert their eyes, preparing themselves for his death, the boy stammers. “I-I am so sorry. I should’ve opened the door slower. I’m so sorry. A-are you okay? Should I get a healer?” He lifts his head, glancing around to see if there’s a healer anywhere nearby.

“Thomas, you’re a medic.” One of his friends, a bigger girl with blonde hair and round cheeks, says quietly, but rolls her eyes at his stupidity. When Maven flicks his eyes to her, she lowers her head, returning her attention to her mush.

The Red, Thomas, comes to that realization and flushes, his cheeks turning pink. “Right. C-can I look at it? I can bandage it until a healer gets here?” He waits for a small, hesitant nod from the smaller boy before kneeling down and taking a look at his nose once he lowers his hand. Wincing, probably thinking of the rope that’s to be around his neck, Thomas examines it, his eyes trailing the sticky blood running down Maven’s throat now. “Shit...uh...it’s not that bad. Just needs some tissues.” He’s lying, Maven can tell from the averted eyes and the hesitant words, but for some reason, chooses to relax a little, as though he believed him.  
  
Standing up, a bit woozy, Maven gently presses tissues Thomas gave him to his silver stained face, mopping up what he can. The Red medic shifts nervously out of the corner of his eye. Up until now, Maven has been viewed as dazed and unsure of what happened. All of the Reds who noticed what was happening expected Thomas to be sentenced to death and hit for injuring a Silver as high as himself when he returned to his senses. The strike never came, nor did the anger.  
  
“Why the rush?” Maven prompts absently, his eyes flickering towards Thomas for a fraction of a second before returning to the blood soaked tissues. His mask slips back on after it had fallen off when seeing Thomas for the first time.  
  
Opening his mouth, then closing it, Thomas struggles to find words. “I...wasn’t in a hurry. I tend to do that. Enter dramatically and such..” Wringing his hands together, he steps forward just a little as of to check on him. “You’re...not mad?” The blonde girl stares at him incredulously, doubtful she heard him right. The others sitting at her table, two guys and another girl, all wearing dirty soldier uniforms, don’t look up but clench their jaws and set their mouths in straight, tight lines.

Maven’s head is throbbing and his blood is spilling all over the floor, courtesy of none other than a Red rat. He should be furious. He should have a Thomas lynched or shot or burn him with his own ability to prove what happens if they mess with their superiors. But he doesn’t feel that rage any longer. It’s his mother’s voice whispering those threats, not his subconscious. No, his mind may be telling him one thing, but something else is telling him another. “It was an accident, was it not?” He chooses to say, discarding his tissues into a rusty waste basket filled with the slop that’s dared to call food.

Thomas realizes he’s getting off easy and nods expeditiously. “Yes, and I apologize deeply. I feel really bad.” He even gives Maven an awkward bow, as if he’s not sure what else to do.  
  
Holding back an amused smile, Maven nods. “Then I’ll be on my way and you on yours. I’ll find a healer myself.” Thomas nods and offers a small, wavering smile.  
  
As the young prince leaves the Red mess hall behind, he questions his actions. His mother would be furious, that’s a certainty. But Maven’s mind quiets as he chooses to listen to the other side of him, the softer, untouched by Elara’s whispers side. Memories of Thomas’s pretty eyes and breathtaking smile fills his head as he enters his cabin, uncaring about the few minutes he has left to be alone. He doesn’t bother to find a healer either, he will have it looked at later. Right now, he can’t stop thinking about the dark-skinned Red with nothing but torn clothes and no shoes.   
  
Without warning, a delightful beat plays in his chest, pumping a heavenly feeling through his veins. Today, Maven chose to shut out his mother, quiet his thoughts, and listen to his heart.

“Thomas.” He whispers to himself in the sunlight filled cabin and lets the hardened part of him slip away as a genuine smile forms on his face.

* * *

Thomas had broken his nose.

The healer currently relieving his pain and setting the disfigured part of his face informs him of this. When Maven had gotten the courage to look at the damage in the mirror, he nearly fainted. It was an ugly dark grey color, the Silver version of a painful bruise, and swelling rapidly. He had managed to clean up the blood before hunting down a member of house Skonos.  
  
Hearing a crack as his nose moves back into place, Maven sighs in relief when his headache disappears. He has enough of those around his mother, he doesn’t need another.

Nodding to the Skonos healer, he sends her off. She dips her head respectfully and scurries put of the medic tent.  
  
Maven should be training right now. General Lerolan nearly threw a tantrum when he sent a servant to let him know he couldn’t make it. According to him, a broken nose is fuel when fighting. Enduring pain on the battlefield is unavoidable so everyone might as well get used to broken bones and stab wounds while they can, so they can fight longer through the burning agony. Fortunately, since Maven’s title gives him more power than many believe he should have, the General has to suck it up and deal with his absence for the day. His nose is fixed and he no longer feels pain, but he figures taking a well needed day off will be good for him.

Hopping off the cot used specifically for healing, the blue-eyed prince leaves the tent. With his blood color, his known title, and his clean, crisp soldier’s uniform, Reds and Silvers alike avoid him, turning the other way or giving him space wherever he walks. Smirking to himself, he silently enjoys the fear he puts in others. Usually at home, he doesn’t get this reaction; it feels good to be noticed. Straightening his spine, he remembers his mother’s words. _To look powerful is to be powerful._ Which is just what he’ll do to continue receiving the respect people give him now.

Feeling confident and regal, Maven walks to his cabin, knowing nobody will be there. At least, he feels that way until Thomas comes into view. He’s carrying a small medical bag, one that can’t possibly contain every tool needed for closing wounds and bandaging injuries. Wearing an expression of guilt, Thomas heads for the med tent. Maven feels the sudden urge to hide and approach him at the same time. With both decisions in mind, he ends up walking funny, in a sort of zigzag motion, swerving towards the cabins one minute, then towards Thomas the other. Embarrassed of his actions, Maven stops himself. Coincidentally, that’s when the elder boy notices him.

A look of fear crosses his face but he manages a small smile, wiggling his fingers in greeting. Maven stupidly stands there, nodding and avoiding the soft green gaze directed at him. Surprisingly enough, Thomas approaches him first. “How’s your nose?”  
  
The burner glances up at the taller of the two, smiling a bit. “Better. How’s your guilt treating you?”  
  
Thomas grimaces. “I really am sorry. I didn’t think anyone would be there..”

“You didn’t think a Silver would be there.” Maven corrects him, folding his arms.

He sighs and nods. “How come you didn’t...you know..” He does the motion of a knife slicing his throat.  
  
Maven arches a brow. “Would you like me to?”

Shaking his head with a passion, Thomas’s eyes go wide. “No! No, I wouldn’t. I shouldn’t have asked. I’ll just...I’ll go now.”

The prince stops him. “I’m joking. Killing people for an accident is more of my mother’s thing, not mine. Besides, you helped me afterwards. A nice gesture.” Although that isn’t the full reason, Maven keeps that to himself.

Relaxing, Thomas releases the tight grip he has on his bag. “Oh. Good.”  
  
Tilting his head, Maven clucks his tongue. “Do you know who I am, Thomas?”  
  
He shakes his head. Of course. Maven knew from the moment he mentioned his mother. No paled features, no slack jaw or fearful eyes. Thomas simply thinks he’s a Silver, a son of nobles. Powerful enough to kill him and feel entitled to a lot of things, but not immensely important.

“Should I?” Thomas asks.

“Do you want to know?”

Hesitating, Thomas shakes his head. “I’m not sure if I do.” Maven doesn’t blame him. The poor boy will wet his pants when he understands he brutally slammed a door into the face of the son of Tiberias Calore VI and Elara Merandus.

“Then you won’t know.”

Another Red medic calls to Thomas. “I’ll be right there!” He calls back, guilt eating at him again. Maven frowns, staring at him questioningly. The medic runs a hand through his curly hair, a feature of his Maven so desperately wants to touch, and chews on his bottom lip. “I fucked up. I need to go.” Surprised at the bluntness of his words, Maven watches Thomas run off, staring at the ground as the other Red scolds him.

The anger directed towards Thomas feeds the ball of rage inside of Maven. It takes him aback the minute he feels it, wondering how a Red boy could cause him to feel emotions so deeply.

* * *

  
It takes three weeks for Thomas to discover Maven’s true identity. Obviously, he knows Maven’s first name when he was told the next time they spoke.   
  
Every once in a while, the two would see each other along the paths twisting and turning throughout the camps or leaving the mess hall on their opposite sides, where Thomas would feel bold and offer him a smile. Maven’s face heated up for the first time when Thomas did that and his heart had picked up it’s pace.

Every time they spoke, which wasn’t too often, they got to know each other little by little. For instance, Thomas revealed he has family of twelve; himself, three brothers, six sisters, and two moms. The blatant mention of his parents bewilders Maven for a moment. In the capital, that type of love isn’t allowed. People such as his mother claim it isn’t love at all. But the feeling Maven has for Thomas contradicts her words and he found himself loving the fact Thomas and most other Reds out at the front accept others for who they are so easily.  
  
Now, three weeks exactly from when Maven’s nose was mangled, Thomas stands a few feet apart from him, gazing frightfully at the orange, yellow, and red that licks up the prince’s arm. The decision to show him had been a difficult one, but Maven figured he should do it now before they got any closer. “You’re a burner.” He says matter-of-factly, his face twisted with horror as he registers what that means. “You’re a Calore.”

“Yes. As well as a prince and the son of Elara Merandus. I appreciate you noticing.” He chuckles but pauses when he sees the utter terror on his face. “Thomas.” He extinguishes the flames.

“I broke your nose. I make fun of you sometimes. How could I-“ he stops, shaking his head and running a hand through his hair, a habit Maven’s come to know as his nervous one.

Shame rises within Maven. “Do you like me any less because of who I am and where I come from?”

Thomas’s eyes snap to his. “No.” He says with the most passionate voice he can muster. “It’s not you I’m afraid of. It’s your mother.” The truth behind his words helps Maven understand. If Elara Merandus were to discover her son hanging around a Red, feeling those unspoken emotions of desire for him, she would have his head for sure.

“She won’t know.”

“But-“

“She won’t know, Tommy, trust me. I won’t let her know.”

Thomas nods, setting his mouth in a thin line. “Okay. I trust you.”

Just like that, a bond forms between the Red medic and the Silver prince. Within the next few months, their relationship takes a romantic turn and Maven finds himself swallowed in a flurry of emotions, all centered around the green-eyed Red who stole his heart by breaking his nose. 


	4. Fun in the Garden (Carmadan/Davidson)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ship: Carmadan/Davidson
> 
> A cute one-shot of the premier of Montfort and his husband freaking out Evangeline :)
> 
> Requested by MTF1203

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really hope I was able to write their characters well!
> 
> Enjoy ;)

Carmadan’s garden is one of beauty. Dane Davidson has never been surprised his husband is a powerful greenwarden, but his series of flowers and various other plants blooming with the starting bud of vegetables are breathtaking. He can’t help but feel proud.

Reaching over and gently touching the petals of a gorgeous red rose, Dane lifts the corner of his mouth in a hidden smile. Carmadan chuckles from his spot near the vegetables. Although his back is turned, Carmadan has a sense Davidson cannot figure out, one that’s gotten him caught many times. “You would look good with a splash of color like that.”  
  
Davidson laughs humorlessly. “Are my clothes truly that drab?” Running his finger down the rose, the phalange catches on a thorn and he watches a drop of scarlet peek out of the skin. A reminder of his past, his identity. However, the color of blood does not matter in the Free Republic of Montfort, nor does anything else that differs one from another. Which is the reason Davidson and Carmadan had been allowed to marry.

His husband, always the stylish one with his suits and ties, muses. “Only if you have my sense of fashion. To others, you look ordinary. To me, you look homeless.” His smile like a crescent moon, Carmadan turns to face his lover. Looking Davidson up and down, he gives him a pointed look. “My point proven.” He’s wearing a simple grey short-sleeved shirt and dark jeans, nothing too special.  
  
Davidson arches an eyebrow, letting his mask slip for only him. He smiles lightly. “I suppose that’s meant to be an insult. No matter, I’ll let you poke fun at me and my ‘terrible fashion sense’.” He had been homeless once. When his new blood abilities were discovered during battle when he was a scared teenager, he had fled, knowing all too well what was to come to him if he stayed. His death was reported soon after from guards who knew better than to let anyone know another new blood got away. Unable to go home and no one to take him in, he had wandered for endless miles, stealing food when he had to using wit and quick talk. Taking Montfort with an alliance of new bloods and Reds alike was the biggest accomplishment Davidson had ever made and he is openly proud of it. His democratic nation against the rest of the world. A place where everyone can be who they are and live their life without slurs or guilt spit at them by insolent people.  
  
Carmadan laughs. “Homeless may not have been the right word. You look...sad?”

Davidson chuckles. “You mean I look cheap. I’ll take it. The more people who view me as sad and cheap, the less likely they’re to see me as who I truly am.”  
  
“The premier of Montfort?”

“A powerful businessman.” Carmadan smiles again at that, continuing to work on his planting. He could make the seeds grow into stalks without a second thought but Davidson’s husband prefers to do things the hard way, using manual labor instead of his given gift.  
  
Moving closer to the dark-skinned greenwarden, Dane inspects each plant. “You’re improving.” He teases.

“Improving?” Carmadan fakes a gasp, covering his heart with his hand. “How dare you?”

Davidson smiles. “I’m just being honest,” He tilts his head, “We are telling each other the truth, correct? What we think of one another?” Kneeling next to him, uncaring about his pants getting dirty, he helps his lover work, planting seeds and covering them with dirt.

“Oh, I see. Being a little petty today, are we?” Carmadan shakes his head, his bright smile never disappearing.

“Just a bit.”  
  
With Davidson’s help, the seeds are planted within an hour and the two stand up, sweating and covered in dirt. Carmadan readjusts his working clothes, as they had gotten wrinkled, and grins at his husband. “We should do that again. I didn’t realize you liked doing this.”

Smirking, Dane runs a hand through his hair, smoothing it. “I only do it to satisfy you.”

Coincidentally, Evangeline happens to be heading out to the garden, lost in thoughts of her father and her own abilities. She looks up in time to see the older men stand from a spot hidden by towering flowers Carmadan is incredibly proud of, brushing off dirt from their skin and straightening their clothes. Hearing the suggestive words leave their mouths, her eyes widen and she stiffens, believing they were doing something very different than from what they were.

“Ah, Evangeline. I thought you weren’t stopping by today.” Carmadan offers her a smile, one the metal bender views as too big for an ordinary day in the garden.

“I can come back.” She says. Even after living in Montfort with Elane for a few months now, she isn’t used to everyone being so open. So thinking she understands what just happened between the married couple, Evangeline gives a tight smile.

Davidson, realizing what she’s thinking, chuckles. “You two can talk, we’re finished.” Carmadan glances at his husband in confusion. Evangeline’s expression is priceless. “Good day to you, Samos.”  
  
As Carmadan and Evangeline speak of what’s on her mind, him being the only one she has a habit of turning to when thoughts trouble her, Davidson shoves his hands in his pockets and heads back to his office space where he can wait for his husband to finish up in the garden and relax, knowing Montfort will stay a safe and happy place for everyone, including the daughter of Volo Samos himself.

Never had he imagined he could be this happy.


	5. Broken Shadow Part 1 (Maven/Thomas)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ship: Maven/Thomas
> 
> Maven Calore has lost the war. However, Mare did not kill him and Cal takes pity on him, desperately wanting to save the part of his brother he hopes is still there. The Scarlet Guard comes across the one person who has any hope of helping Maven break down the walls his mother built around him: a boy named Thomas.
> 
> Requested by friderikist

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I loved writing this part. It made me emotional but I haven’t attempted extended their story like this before so I had a lot of fun with it.
> 
> Let me know if anything needs to be added in part 2 (coming soon)!
> 
> Also, this is connected to my other fic on Maven and Thomas meeting. There will be some references to that so I suggest you read that first before reading this one :) if not, that’s totally fine, but some things may not make sense.

“Why?”

Tiberias Calore VII glances sideways at his younger brother. The cell he’s huddled in is damp and moldy, releasing a stench Cal isn’t sure Maven can ignore for much longer. Mare, whom Cal had to drag along, crosses her arms and stares at the older Calore brother, refusing to look over at the once king of Norta.

“I wasn’t just going to let you die, Mavey.” Cal whispers, despite the look Mare is giving him. Maven had interrupted their conversation, uncaring about their quiet words of what to do with him when they’re standing five feet away. Maven lets a chuckle slip past his lips, a cold one signaling his manipulative words will come soon after. Mare shifts slightly then catches herself, knowing better than to let him know he gets to her.

Ice blue eyes snap to bronze as Maven lifts his head. “You think you can fix this?” He gestures to his head with a single finger, “You believe you can fix me?” Cal’s eyes flicker between Mare and his brother. She told him. Shaking his head and giving Mare a fake look of disbelief, Maven smiles. “I cannot believe you didn’t tell my dear brother. You two have gotten closer lately, so I figured you had.” The pettiness laced in his voice is obvious.

“Mave..” Cal’s voice is of warning but Maven doesn’t care, cutting him off as a royal would a peasant.

“Don’t call me that.” His smile is gone and his eyes are no longer bright, they’re a dull cloudy blue. The words come out as a whisper rather than a bold statement.  
  
_He’s losing himself._

Maven Calore has already lost himself, long before this moment. However, he’s lost everything else of his: his title, his power, even his clothes which are torn, his cape missing. Silent stone silences his ability and the son of a snake is left with nothing but his broken shadow. Although Mare, ever since the battle between them, has stated she wants nothing to do with her previous jailer, Cal can tell she feels a hint of guilt deep in her gut. Maven Calore was a victim once, as is everyone who does wrong. At least that’s what Cal believes.

“Why won’t you kill me?” Maven breathes.  
  
Cal is taken aback. “You’re my brother, Maven. I’m not going to kill you, I’m going to help you.”  
In a fit of anger, Maven sneers at his elder brother. “Help me? How are you going to fix something that cannot be undone? You’re a stupid boy in denial.”

“Funny. I could’ve said the same thing about you.” Mare snaps back, ignoring Cal’s look of pleading for her to stop.  
  
Maven tilts his head at her. “Mare Barrow, such a pleasure for you to join us.” He scoffs. “Done throwing your tantrum?”

Cal silences Mare with a light brush against her hand, one Maven picks up on quickly. His eyes trail the movement. “We aren’t here to fight with you, nor to hear your wit.”

“Then what are you here for? To rub your victory in my face?”

“To introduce you to someone.”

Quirking an eyebrow, Maven glances between the two. Mare purses her lips, having been against the idea, but is silent. The decision had been made by the Scarlet Guard once the person had been identified as a source of light for Maven, someone who can help. Mare had claimed it may not work and Maven may be thrown into a pit of darkness even further than the one he’s in now. “Am I supposed to know who that is?” Maven prompts lazily. He’s covering his fear.

“You’ll find him quite familiar.” Mare says, staring him down. The slightest crease in Maven’s forehead in satisfactory enough for her. Farley had gotten her to agree, to see if it would work, otherwise there were other options of healing.  
  
Maven’s pulse increases. “Him?” A faint memory tugs at the back of his mind, a whisper of a promise, a stolen kiss, and a broken nose.

“You’ll meet him tomorrow. We call him the Healer.” Cal informs him.

“And you’re sure this ‘healer’ is going to do his job? He can easily kill me while your heads are turned.”

“Trust me, Maven.” Mare stares at him with cold, calculating eyes. It reminds him of himself. “The Healer does not intend to kill you nor harm you. He wants to help you.”

“Why?” Maven asks again, searching her eyes. “Nobody _wants_ to help me, Mare.”

She clucks her tongue. “Thomas does.” She watches with a slight smirk as his face goes slack.

Cal and Mare leave their prisoner in his Silent stone cell beneath the Scarlet Guard headquarters with wide eyes and his heart pumping furiously. His mind howls in agony as hidden memories are brought back to the surface, shimmering with a fuzzy glare, blurring most of each image. All he can make out is the vivid forest-green eyes that linger for much too long.

Indeed, Maven Calore is left with nothing but a broken shadow and the haunting promise of seeing his former lover.   


* * *

  
Maven wants to throw up. Besides the Silent Stone weighing him down, his very being wants to shrink into a ball and disappear. Thomas, the Red medic with nothing but beautiful eyes and a precious smile to keep him going, is waiting behind the double doors of a private room a small walk away from his cell.

_They’re lying. Thomas is dead._

The thought had crossed his mind the night before as he was too anxious to sleep. He had killed Thomas, watched him burn. Screams of agony filled his head until his mother had taken mercy upon him and removed his ability to dream. Thomas should be dead.  
  
_But what if he isn’t?_

The ‘what-if’ repeats consistently, echoing throughout the chambers of his head. Mare hadn’t been lying when she looked him dead in the eyes and said the name that brought him pain. He would’ve known.

Just the idea of Thomas surviving his fire leaves him sick to his stomach. After everything that happened, what will he think of the murderous exiled king? If Thomas was alive during his reign, then he must be beyond disappointed of how Maven turned out. Guilt strikes him and he clenches his fists. Thomas must hate him for everything he’s ever done. Betray the only family that cares for him, obsess over a girl who’ll never love him back, chain her and torture her and beg her to become his Red Queen, leaving notes in the hands of dead children, hating Reds just as his mother raised him to do. 

How can he look Tommy in the eyes now, after he caused all of that sorrow?  
  
Hands grip his forearms and Maven flinches. “I’m not ready.” He says as a pair of guards drag him forwards. “I don’t want to see him yet.” They ignore the fallen king and throw him into the room, their faces bored the entire time. They could care less. Usually, it would anger the burner to be treated in such a fashion, but he’s too nervous to pick a fight. Also, he’s not in the best place to win one. 

Maven is, for once in his life, scared. He’s staring at his wretched shackles, too afraid to look up at the face he isn’t ready to see. _You mustn’t be afraid._ The voice of his mother shocks him. He hasn’t heard her in his mind for a long time.

_But I am._

Staring at the ground, unwilling to look up, Maven stands there, feeling like a child about to be scolded. He can see a pair of worn shoes and brown ankles in front of him and his heart squeezes. No one else is in the room, at least that he can sense, so he knows if he looks up, he will have the ability to cry. Only Thomas ever viewed his tears and so only Thomas can bring them.

“You must think I’m pathetic.” Maven says. His voice is weak and trembles, but he tries his best to cover it up.

“Pathetic? No, Mave. You’re just lost.”


	6. Broken Shadow Part 2 (Maven/Thomas)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ship: Maven/Thomas
> 
> This is the second part to Broken Shadow and it’s the interaction between Thomas and Maven after many years.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, this fic will probably end up being 3 or 4 parts depending on how much I feel like adding into the third part. But I hope you all enjoy!!
> 
> Also, warning, some swearing.

Thomas’s honeyed voice soothes Maven’s tense muscles and fills his heart with a magical, warm emotion. It makes him want to sob. Just hearing the other’s voice, the deep one it changed into after puberty, wrenches something open in the smaller boy, bleeding pain for everyone to see.

“Lost?” Forcing a chuckle, the burner shakes his head.  
  
“You lost everything, now you’ve lost yourself. I’m here to help you find everything you lost.” He lowers his words to a whisper. “Starting with me.”

Maven finds the courage to look up. Thomas is just as beautiful as the day he met him. Forest green eyes and a smile that brightens the room itself cause Maven’s body to tremble. His mother’s work nearly fails as tears shine in his eyes. Thomas is dressed better, in more comfortable clothes, and actually has a pair of decent, worn shoes. His curly dark hair has grown longer and is pulled into a small ponytail in the back of his head. The one thing that catches the former king’s eye is the Scarlet Guard symbol on Thomas’s shirt. _He’s one of them._

The two stand in a nicer, cleaner version of Maven’s cell, except instead of a rotting toilet and rats, there’s a table with two chairs. _Like a fucking therapy session_. Thomas takes a small, bold step forward, that small, reassuring smile still pasted on. He knows better than to treat Maven like a child so he gently extends a hand, gesturing towards the chair closest to him. “Take a seat, Mave.”

Maven doesn’t move. “What is this?” His voice quivers. “I thought you were supposed to heal me. Cal called you The Healer.”

Nodding, his former lover drops his arm. “I will, but first I need to get some background knowledge. Just a few things about you. The things I don’t already know, that is.” As if remembering something, Thomas removes an item from his pocket and steps towards Maven. Maven flinches, taking a step back as Thomas nears him. “Relax, Mave.” He says with an assuring tone. Unlocking Maven’s chains, the taller person takes them and drapes them over the edge of one chair.

The Calore son rubs his wrists and stares at Thomas in awe. “Why did you-“

“I know you won’t hurt me. Not again.” Smiling as if he hadn’t just broken Maven even more, he pats the chair. “If you would kindly sit down.” There’s something off about him, with his fake smile and his sudden forwardness. Maven doesn’t like it, knows there’s something going on, but obliges and sits where Thomas tells him to.

“It’s good to see you.” He says softly when he’s seated across from him. Maven stares at the table, tracing the scratches with his eyes. When the blue-eyed boy doesn’t respond, Thomas moves on without missing a beat. “I’ve heard of your obsession with Mare.” He says bluntly.  
  
Maven’s eyes snap to his. “What about it?”

“I didn’t think you were the simping type.” Thomas shrugs and interlaces his hands as Maven used to on his desk in his work room.

“I’m not.”

“Although you burned an ‘M’ on her to mark her as yours.”

_Shut up._ Maven has no idea what to say back. He stares at Thomas, who innocently looks at him. Oh. He’s being petty. Thomas is digging a knife into his abdomen and twisting it until it becomes too painful for Maven to handle. The once red medic knows what Maven has done, what horrors he’s conducted, and now he’s showing his anger and disappointment in only a way he can.  
  
Thomas was never an angry person. In fact, he was too nice. Maven would tell him to shut up and shove him away yet he’d always laugh and tackle him in a hug, covering his face with kisses. The once prince of Norta certainly did not deserve the affection he was given but Thomas gave it relentlessly. The only moment he was ever truly angry was when General Lerolan had slapped Maven across the face; the only time he had ever been openly punished at the front. And it was for helping Thomas out. Thomas had held him that night secretly under the stars, angrily ranting about the General while tears slipped down his face. Maven had wanted to tell him he was alright, that it happened to Thomas more than it did him and he shouldn’t feel bad. He did, however, and kissed the grey bruise softly many times to help “heal” it. The next day, the spot looked as good as new, which Maven left up to his quick healing cells.

Now, as Thomas’s new title reveals, he questions the claim Thomas made about having no abilities. _Is he like Mare? Red-blooded yet with natural Silver abilities? Is that how he survived?_

“Is she who you want?”

Maven, startled at the anger laced in his voice, blinks. “What?”  
  
“Is she who you want?” Thomas repeats. His eyes now have a fury to them, turning them a dark green. He isn’t super angry; he’s disappointed and hurt, as he has every right to be. But Maven misinterprets these feelings as anger directed towards him.

“No. She chose Cal.”

“What if she had chosen you?”

“I thought you were dead.”

Thomas exhales sharply through his nose. The smiling boy is gone, replaced by a depressed, lonely person who’s held their emotions in for much too long. “Stop avoiding the question.”

“What do you want me to say, Thomas? That I would spend my entire life mourning your loss? My heart was bound to move on.” The words hurt as he speaks them but he hides his pain well, as always.

“Not in the way you did.”

Sighing, Maven clucks. “You told me you needed background information. I don’t remember you saying we needed to talk about my love life.”

“This _is_ background information,” Thomas’s anger melts just a little, “and I need to know this, no matter how hard it is to talk about.”

“How is knowing of my relationship with Mare going to help you “heal” me?” He’s afraid of what the answer will be, partly because he knows exactly what he’s going to say. Yet his mask does not slip.

“It’ll help heal _us_ , Mave. And according to your brother and Mare, that’s what’s going to fix what your mom started.”   



	7. Broken Shadow Part 3 (Maven/Thomas)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ship: Maven/Thomas
> 
> The final part of post War Storm Thomaven. 
> 
> (I’m super sorry if this seems rushed. If you’d like me to go back and fix it, please let me know!)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That was so much fun to write! (And cry to)   
> I’ve been working on school lately so I haven’t been writing as much as I would’ve liked to. But break is here and I’m going to do my best to write a lot during this week!
> 
> Enjoy!
> 
> Also, thank you again friderikist for requesting this fic!
> 
> Warning: swearing

Returning to his cell is the peak of Maven’s day. Two red guards without abilities, with nothing but an allegiance to the Scarlet Guard, grip his forearms roughly and toss him into his prison as if he is a discarded rag. A rat scurries away when he lands in a puddle of an anonymous substance, splashing the tiles around him.

Without a word, the guards lock his cell and walk off, chatting with one another as if Maven can’t hear them. Maven may have been stripped of his title but he’s not fully washed of his pride. Unfortunately, if he still attains it, it’s likely to be taken away. Maven knows that better than anyone. With the next few months comes his withering pride and deflated stance. Thomas questions him every day relentlessly, only giving him a break when he’s sent back to his cell after four hour therapy sessions.

Sometimes, Maven feels his head will explode.

He can’t say he entirely hates it, however; Thomas is caring and gentle, his words soothing Maven. He would even reach out and brush a loving hand over Maven’s, letting him know he’s there if he feels the former needs it. Comforting, yes, but not entirely.

Thomas’s once boyish smile and musical laugh has faded over the years. He rarely laughs out loud anymore and smiles merely to comfort Maven. Other than that, Thomas has grown, become a man. His hair has grown to his shoulders, although Maven never sees it down; it’s always tied up in a ponytail, one Maven periodically wishes he could touch. A stubble has appeared on Thomas’s face, as if he doesn’t care enough to shave it, which the fallen king finds sort of hot.

In the end, Maven can’t deny what’s happened. Tommy is all grown up now while Maven is stuck in a child’s fantasy.

_How can he still love me after what I’ve done?_

As much as he doesn’t want to admit it, his subconscious is right. How could he? The trouble he’s caused, the flames he’s fed, the lives he’s ruined. If Mare Barrow talked with Thomas then she most likely told him everything, including his worst moments.  
  
_The notes._

_Iris._

_My last hope to run with the little lightning girl._

Thomas hates him. There’s no denying it.

Over the course of the next few weeks, Maven answers Thomas’s questions quietly and with his head down, unwilling to give him the satisfaction of looking upon the face of regret. Slowly, the once king of Norta falls into an ashamed and depressed state; he doesn’t have the energy to make snarky remarks or even lie.  
  
Thomas, as always, notices this. “Mave. Can you tell me how you’re feeling right now?”

“Fucking depressed.” Maven drawls. He’s kept his ability to joke about the pain, but even that is fading quickly.

Sighing, Thomas sets down his pen and closes his notebook. Finally. “How come?”

Why is he depressed? There are a million ways he can answer that, nearly all of them ending up as a sarcastic snap. _Tell him why._ “Because you’re here. And I’d rather die than stay in that rotting cell another night.” Maven chooses to say.

“Don’t you think that’s how Mare felt when you locked her away?”

The words hit Maven like a brick. A heavy one. “Don’t bring Mare into this.” He whispers, clenching his hands into fists.

“I’m serious, Mave. You’re going through what Mare did. Suicidal and depressing thoughts are normal in this situation, especially after all that you’ve been through.” Thomas offers him a reassuring smile. Maven doesn’t look up.

“You aren’t concerned. Why am I surprised?”

“I am con-“

“Really? You don’t seem like you are. Why don’t you just let me die, Tommy?” Finally meeting those green eyes, Maven pleads for what seems like the first time in his life. “Please. I don’t want to live through this anymore. I lost, I’ve...” he pauses and exhales, “...I’ve accepted that. I’m not king, I’m not even royalty. I’m an orphan and I’m lost, as you said. The one thing I want is to move on. There is nothing left here for me.” The broken side of Maven Calore shows after years of keeping a mask tightly clasped onto his face. He’s vulnerable and open, two things his mother would’ve punished him greatly for.

Thomas’s eyes widen. “I’m here. You have me.”

“No, I don’t. You hate me, I can see it in your plastic smile, your fake words of reassurance. I can tell a lie from a mile away and you’ve lied to me through your teeth since we started this wretched schedule.” Maven isn’t upset, his voice never rises above an indoor voice, yet his emotions hit all the same.

Thomas stands suddenly. His eyes are sad and he frowns. “Maven Merandus Calore.” Maven’s eyes snap to Thomas’s due to they had strayed before. The taller man inches closer to him, bit by bit. The look in his eyes is so fierce, Maven doesn’t dare move a muscle. Thomas gently takes his hands, kneels in front of him, and never takes his eyes off of him. “You may have done some terrible things. Your mind might be fucked up because of a mother who always wanted more rather than less. You may just be a broken shell of who you once were but that does not stop me from loving you. Don’t ever believe I hate you. The day I hate you is the day everything and everyone in this world goes to shit. You’re my world, Mave, my light, my baby, my everything. I love you more than words can explain, that is not going to change.”

Suddenly, like a dam breaking, the final walls around Maven’s heart collapse and his true broken form shines. Tears spill out of his eyes, down his cheeks, and drips off his chin. Maven Calore hasn’t cried since the day he believed he killed Thomas and the salty drops keep coming.  
  
_Mother would be furious._  
  
Maven realizes he doesn’t give a shit.

Thomas engulfs him in a long awaited hug, which Maven actually returns, burying his face in his lover’s shoulder. The two stand with one another, embracing while Maven releases the true side of his heart.  
  
Neither say anything. A comfortable silence fills the air around them. Maven is not fully healed, nor will he be for a long time. Minds take years to heal, most don’t fully heal at all. Trauma stays with people, as unfortunate as it is. But, as Thomas teaches him, things get better. That day was the first step in Maven’s journey. Once horrid sessions turned into ones filled with love and real, genuine smiles. Thomas became the one person in his life that he simply couldn’t find it in himself to hate.

Although Maven is still working on himself and his growing relationship with Thomas, he knows he’s where he’s meant to be and he’s more than just a broken shadow. 


	8. Grounded (MareCal and Fade)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ships: MareCal and Fade
> 
> Shade and Mare are caught stealing by their significant others. 
> 
> Requested by JaretDU

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! This fic is funny and cute, I just love baby Clara and Fade makes me cry so I’m happy I got to write a happy fic with them in it.
> 
> A few things you need to know before reading!  
> \- This is set post War Storm  
> \- Shade and Farley live in a house together with Clara  
> \- Mare is not queen yet but lives with Cal in the capital and is engaged to him. The marriage won’t be for a while because of shit happening with the government atm  
> \- Not everything is entirely accurate to Broken Throne, this is simply my version of post War Storm if Shade had lived
> 
> Enjoy!

Diana Farley is the most terrifying person alive when she’s angry. Her eyes narrow, creating an eerie, cold look to her blue eyes, and her entire body seems to radiate fury. Now is not the best time to return from town, nor the time to be snorting and laughing with one another as they push each other around.

The youngest Barrow brother swallows at the sight of his wife standing in the entrance of their house, a scowl etched on her face, and her arms folded. Clara, Diana and Shade’s five-year old daughter, pokes her head out the door to wince. “Daddy’s in trouble.” Shade attempts a smile but it fades when Farley shakes her head.

“Inside. Now.”

Mare whistles, shrugging. “Sorry, bro, you’re on your own.” As she starts to walk away, leaving Shade to his doom, a deep voice follows her.

“You too, Mare.”

She freezes and Shade chuckles at her. Cal stands next to Farley in the doorway, his stance and expression the same. The Barrow siblings glance at each other, knowing exactly what’s coming.  
Once the four of them are inside Shade and Farley’s house, and after making sure Clara is out of hearing range, Farley glowers at her husband. “Shade, I cannot believe you. Having Mare go out and steal is one thing, encouraging that behavior and joining her is another.”

“Woah, woah, woah. Who said we were stealing?” Shade asks.

Cal and Farley give him the exact same I-will-kill-you-if-you-ever-lie-to-my-face-again look. Even Mare casts a glance at her brother. “That was....terrible.”  
  
“Empty your pockets. Both of you.” The Calore prince stares at Mare while speaking, letting her know he’s more upset with her. Sighing, the siblings throw coins, silver, and even a dagger on the kitchen table in front of them. Farley examines the items, scoffing at each and every one.  
  
“You’re grounded.”

Shade does a double take. “Wait, what? Diana, baby, you can’t ground me. I’m your husband, not your child.”

“Really? Well, maybe when you learn to start acting like an adult, I won’t. But for now, you are. No going out late, no going out alone with Mare, and you’re going to babysit Clara while I do my work.” Shade gapes at her but knows better than to argue.

Once she’s finished with her rant, Farley looks to Cal. “What about you? Anything for Mare?”

Cal thinks for a moment, glances at Mare, then shakes his head with embarrassment. “I could try, but she’d never follow the rules anyways.”

“He can’t make me do anything.” The lightning girl agrees, crossing her arms with a small smirk.

“Then I’m grounding you as well. I’ll make sure your parents know.”

“I live with Cal, _Diana_. Not my parents.” Mare retaliates. Shade shakes his head, trying to tell her to shut up.

“Your punishment is no Cal for a week. Think you can handle that, _Barrow_?” Both Cal and Mare splutter at that, making up excuses for how that won’t work. Farley smirks, knowing exactly what she’s doing. “It’s final. Shade, you’re here with Clara and I until I trust you can go out on your own again. And Mare, let’s see how well you do without your boy toy for a week.”

Livid, Mare scowls at the Scarlet Guard leader. “All we did was steal some things. I used to do that every day before everything went to shit.”  
  
“Now, you’re about to be queen. I’m doing this for your own good, Mare. Nobody wants a queen who steals from her people. You should know that firsthand.”

The blow hits hard, yet Mare can’t say she’s wrong. She experienced a queen taking from her people as a bully would a child. The reminder of her upcoming title is nerve wracking too. Although Cal proposed to her a week prior and he’s currently working out government issues before the marriage is officially planned, Mare has been told constantly about her new job. Sometimes, like today, she comes back to her home, where her family is, and runs around pickpocketing and hanging with her siblings like she used to as if hoping to bring back some comfort into her life.

Scowling and staring at her feet like a scolded child, Mare crosses her arms.  
  
Over the next week, Mare and Cal are separated. The two attempt to act as though nothing is wrong, but it’s clear to everyone they’re missing each other, especially the other’s body. Gisa pretended to gag when she saw Mare staring out the window instead of focusing on the chores her mother tasked her with.

Shade didn’t get off any easier. Farley handed him cleaning supplies and a three mile long list of things to do for Clara by the time she got home every night, kissed him on the cheek, and left for day long meetings.

And Clara, who had heard the whole thing without letting anyone know, enjoyed the time her dad spent with her and was actually happy he got grounded. 


	9. Hope (Cal Angst)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cal and Kilorn find Maven and Mare after their brawl in War Storm. Warning: pretty angsty
> 
> Requested by xkatiemoorex :)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Thanksgiving y’all!
> 
> Wow, I have not been active lately, writer’s block sucks. But, here is an angsty Cal fic for you, hope you enjoy.
> 
> (This is also an attempt at first person since I usually write in third. Please lmk if you prefer one or the other for prompts :))

_Please. Don’t take them from me._

Colors blur together wildly as I race down the halls of my previous home, my shoes slapping loudly on the polished stone floor. Everything is dreary, a cold, dull grey; the only color is the silver pumping through my veins and clouding my vision with fear.

Kilorn keeps pace with me easily, although his pants reflect exhaustion creeping up on him. The green-eyed fish boy has the same look of dread etched onto his face, the two of us sharing the same thought.

_Don’t let her be dead._

However, my own worries are stretched between the opposing teams; concern for Mare’s life and worried for my little brother’s. Although no one else seemed to care if Mavey passed on, I can’t stop the bile rising in my throat at the thought of it.

Kilorn and I, the second we were informed where Mare had gone to take care of Maven, sprinted for the room, desperately wishing nothing intense had happened. However, when does anything ever go according to our hopes in this world?

Reaching the room where Mare had entered to stop Maven, we skid to a stop. Upon the cool stone floor lies the little lightning girl, her collarbone a mangled mess as well as bruises and cuts which decorate her brown skin. Hair spreads around her head like a halo and I have to admit, even broken and exhausted, she looks beautiful. Kilorn swallows, knowing he shouldn’t assume, yet her state leaves him afraid.  
  
“Is she-“

“No.” I say before I have the chance to rush over, kneel, and check her pulse gently. Her heart beats. She lives. I relax, exhaling softly. “No.”

As Kilorn takes a breath of relief and kneels on the other side of her, trailing a hand down to hers so he can squeeze it, I notice the other body lying a few feet away. My throat closes around my heart. I can’t breathe.

Maven’s skin is too pale, too translucent for life. A letter opener protrudes from his chest where Mare must’ve stabbed him mindlessly. I force myself to crawl over, to look upon my little brother’s dead face. Not Mavey. Curly black hair, the kind his mother ever so hated, falls into his face and covers bits of his still open icy eyes. The look frozen in them is not one of hatred nor vengeance. It’s of gratitude and solace.  
  
Although Maven’s clothes are rumpled, his hair a mess, and injuries littering his body, he is finally relieved. As though his whole life he’s been holding his breath and just a few minutes ago, had the chance to release it. I choke on my own sobs, biting my lower lip. All I ever wanted was for him to be happy, yet whatever higher power is up there, if any, certainly screwed both of us over with that wish.

Kilorn glances over at me with a sympathetic look, gazing down at the corpse before me. “Cal.” He doesn’t need to say any more. I nod, inhaling sharply. Mare needs her wounds to be taken care of, Maven is already dead. His body won’t go anywhere for the time being.

As much as it hurts, I pick up Mare carefully, mindful of her collarbone, and leave Maven behind. _I’ll be back._

Mare’s skin is warm to the touch and her breaths are becoming more even despite the pain she must be in. Her state causes my heart to ache for the girl I love more than anything; the girl I also happened to throw away for a title and a crown. How Elara would be proud.

The blonde fish boy walks hurriedly beside me, checking Mare’s pulse every few moments. I want to tell him she’s okay, she’s just got some broken bones and cuts, but Kilorn wouldn’t listen. Besides, he needs to do this. Mare is his best friend and he’s not just going to act as though nothing is wrong.

The next few hours are a blur. Mare is taken into care, new blood healers as well as Sara working overtime to heal the lightning girl’s wounds. I distinctly remember Kilorn giving me the first appreciative look I’ve gotten from him since we met. I think he’s finally gotten over whatever jealousy he had of me. I don’t know how that makes me feel.  
  
It’s not until I’m alone again, after returning to the wretched room and retrieving my brother’s remains by myself, I realize I don’t feel anything. Numbness washes over me, takes over my body like a demon, leaving me craving a taste of emotion, any at all.  
  
Mare awakens and we talk. Maven is buried next to his mother. I continue with my duties, allowing myself to be overcome with work. The numbness prevails.  
  
The first emotion I feel after a long few months is one I need the most. After my monthly visit to Maven’s grave and speaking with Mare through letters, I feel a spark of hope. Maybe things _can_ be good again.


	10. I’m Coming (Tibe and Coriane Angst)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ships: Tibe/Coriane and light MareCal
> 
> Tibe thinks through his past with Coriane and finds himself comparing Mare to his former wife as his final moments near.
> 
> Requested by yasmin

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so sorry this took so long to write. I finally went back and reread Cruel Crown to research this fic (bc it’s been a while since I’ve read it).
> 
> I’ve also been incredibly busy with school and work so I haven’t had time to write. I did manage to write this (at like....11 pm) but I hope you all enjoy this angsty Tibe and Coriane fic.
> 
> Let me know if anything needs to be changed or if something doesn’t look right :)

She was the one.  
  
From the moment he viewed her sitting upon the stone bench underneath the twisting Magnolia trees, he knew she was the one. Coriane Jacos, the girl with the old dress, met him intoxicated, which he was never truly proud of. Flushed cheeks and a drowsy grin spread across his face was no way to enchant a lady.

  
However, Coriane treated him with respect, bowing carefully (and rather poorly) and speaking with him as though he were a friend. How odd, his parents never seemed to act that way around him when he decided to drown himself in wine. 

  
Coraine wasn’t afraid of him. Perhaps it was due to his title; he had met many who were terrified of him from taking one look at the medals adorning his attire or the glimmering crown upon his head. Even his Sentinals, the ones constantly flanking him, sent messages no one dared ignore. But Coriane was different, she related to him on an entirely different level: two members of High Houses craving more to life than legacies they were given.

  
Tibe had never known true love. If he was being honest, he’d scoff at the phrase, claiming it didn’t exist. His parents had an alleged love, a marriage only through legality and satisfaction. Although he could care less if his father were attracted to men rather than woman, choosing his Uncle Robert over his mother, it did leave an ache in his chest whenever he remembered the broken connection throughout his family. Uncle Robert was the only true parental figure in his life that he connected with. Sure, he loved his mother and she him, but there was that silent knowledge of things that could have been.

  
Robert had once told him of true love. He claimed it only existed if he believed enough to see it, to reach out and grab it by the reigns. Tibe told him that was ridiculous. Robert merely gandered over at his father, who was speaking indistinctly with his mother, and smiled. “It may as well be to you, but to me, it’s the life I’ve lived and the path I chose.” Those words stuck with him for the longest time, until the moment his own son’s blade hit the skin of his neck.

  
_Cal_. 

  
Coriane’s smile when Cal had been birthed was the most joyous he had ever seen. It had later been revealed to him she had suffered three miscarriages previously, news that broke his heart she hadn’t shared with him. Cal’s survival left her content, eagerly spending time with her son and helping tug out blocks that had gotten stuck in odd places. Tibe had once found a toy of Cal’s shoved in one of his shoes. How it had gotten there was a mystery to them all since Cal rarely left the sight of his mother.

  
Tibe knew of his wife’s worries for Cal’s future. Obviously, he would be a soldier; a leader. A king who would lead his armies to war and come back victorious. Coriane was frightened of the day Cal did not return, taken from her by a world full of war and bloodshed. He had passed it off as any mother’s worry, yet it got worse over time. She underwent nightmares, waking in a sweat and screaming. Most times she would scare him awake, startling him greatly. Comforting her after a terrible nightmare became a nightly routine, a problem he wasn’t sure how to solve. If only he were a Merandus, a whisper with the ability to ease her mind rather than destroy it.

  
By the time she stopped sleeping to escape the dreams plaguing her, he knew something was wrong. Her eyes hollowed and black circles enveloped them, turning her into an undead creature. He attempted to talk to her, to ease her out of her misery with anything she needed, but she refused, claiming it was nothing. 

  
His father, as well as Uncle Robert, had died by then, punching a hole out of both their hearts, ones that could never be filled. Even though Tibe had known Robert most of his life, Coriane seemed to hurt the most from his loss, or maybe it was simply because Tibe was raised to move on, that life is taken left and right without mercy.

  
That part of him shattered when his queen was found in bath water as black as night, her lifeless eyes reflecting the last emotion in her life. _Fear_.

  
Now, fear is what shows in Tibe’s eyes as his son swings the sword above his head, eyes glazed from Elara’s gift. Elara and his younger son stand apart from the other half of the family, ice blue eyes taunting and glinting. 

  
When had he gone wrong as a father to Maven? Was it the favored manners towards Cal? The ability to ignore, scoff, and look down upon his youngest son? Perhaps he loved Maven in a different way because Elara was his mother; a Merandus with incomparable abilities. If only he had learned to love his children equally, then maybe this entire situation could’ve been avoided. Or it could’ve possibly been the same if Elara were kept in the mix. He supposes he will never know.

  
_Or if Coriane had lived_. The thought hurts more than could be put into words.

  
Mare Barrow, a newblood with the incredible ability to wield lightning, kneels between the family halves, shackles around her wrists and a dress more suited to a Silver billowing around her. Her makeup is perfect, as was requested, hiding her true blood color. 

  
Tibe remembers when Mare first appeared during Queenstrial, proving her status as a Red a lie, proving she was just as strong and powerful as the ruthless Silvers. For a sliver of a second, Tibe saw Coriane in her; a strong woman with the ability to think, create, and speak her mind. Cal certainly acquired an interest in her, sparking another quite obvious similarity between the former queen and the little lightning girl.

  
With a shuddering breath, Tibe exhales slowly, looking over at the short girl in chains, a look of horror etched on her face. 

  
She sees what is coming. 

  
He does not. 

  
His final moments are spent staring at Mare Barrow and imagining what Coriane would’ve thought of her. The audacity of a Red girl appearing with abilities to oppose the monarchy and their lies made him irritable. Cal’s obvious attraction towards her was unbearable; the knowledge of his son loving a Red girl with secret Silver powers was too much. But if Coriane were there...

  
Tibe chose Coriane outside of Queenstrial. He was lucky enough to receive her, let alone allowed to propose to her. Cal was sworn into Queenstrial before he was born since Tibe passed up the opportunity and caused quite a rage throughout the High Houses. 

  
Yet, he realizes the meaning of Robert’s words. _It may as well be to you, but to me, it’s the life I’ve lived and the path I chose_. Tibe achieved love, whether it was true or not, Tiberias VI loved someone so much it hurt, leaving him a shell of who he used to be when she was ripped from his arms. Marriage in Norta is required for bearing talented children, but love can still be attained. He saw that through Robert and his father. 

  
Coriane would’ve loved Mare Barrow despite the circumstances. She would’ve loved the way Mare’s tongue ran without a second thought, the way she curled Cal around her finger and swooned for him all the same. Coriane would’ve known what to do to make her son happy. Maybe Mare is the key to Cal’s happiness, a light in this world of darkness he was thrown into.

  
Tibe closes his eyes, shutting out the lightning girl, his influenced son, his wretched wife, and his eldest son, the one whom reminds him too much of Coriane. 

  
_Coriane...I’m coming._  



End file.
